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Jorah’s chest tightened as Auberon stepped forward, but he steadied himself, focusing on the bow in his hands and the beat of his heart to still his flighty reflexes. The plan held more water than some other House Leaders he knew; surrounded by comrades on high alert, Auberon wasn’t an unwitting target. Using a human as bait didn’t sit nicely with him, but Jorah tried to think of it another way and was reminded of his hunting dogs back home, rushing into the weeds to flush out game. 

Of course, birds didn’t usually bite back. 

His unease didn’t last long, though. Stick in the mud that Auberon was, you’d never know it to see him now. Feet planted in the middle of enemy territory, voice ringing sharply against the steel of his own helmet as he issued a holy challenge to any who would answer, the head of the Lions was true to his name. His attitude was contagious; Jorah felt his chest swell with… was that excitement? He went from defensively scouting the alleys to hoping some fool would dare step into his line of sight, where he could visit some holy vengeance of his own on anyone stupid enough to show their face. Damn – with this kind of zeal, Auberon could stand on tables and tell drunken war stories with the best of them. The thought made Jorah grin – maybe there was hope for this one yet. 

As luck would have it, it seemed someone did answer the Lion’s call. The silence was eerie after Auberon’s speech, but soon, the rhythmic [i]whump[/i] of heavy wingbeats swirled the fog around them, and out from the mist burst a wyvern, barrelling straight at them.

Jorah’s bewilderment at the sight slowed his reflexes; Euphemia shot first, but missed, throwing the wyvern into a spin. The redhead swung as well, clipping its leg. Jorah quickly composed himself and loosed an arrow of his own, taking advantage of the creature’s confusion and landing a shot to its centre of mass. The arrow buried deep into the unarmoured flesh under the wyvern’s wing, disabling the beast; it let out a spine-chilling shriek and tumbled into the fog, the sickening [i]thud[/i] of flesh and bone on stone signaling its collision with a building. 

Another arrow was nocked before Jorah even realized he’d done it, and though his eyes remained transfixed on the blurry silhouette of the beast he’d just felled, he was vaguely aware of talking behind him, much too calm to be appropriate for the situation. He whirled around, drawing as he went, fixing a sight picture on two bandits across the way – and Auberon in between. 

[color=FFAB66]“Auberon!”[/color]

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